Moon Crossed (Werewolf Hunter Series): Season 1 (Episodes 1-6) (Crescent Hunter) (25 page)

“I'm just
worried. I see the way you look at him, and how he's been around you
constantly for weeks. I've seen this before with him.” He's
full of concern. “We're all worried that it could happen with
you. Because you're a hunter, because you'd be a challenge to him.”
He shakes his head. “He likes a challenge.”

“Well, thanks for
the heads up. I'm not going to let the big bad wolf get me.”
The sarcasm in my tone is thick and biting. “We don't belong
together, and I'm not so stupid as to fall for any kind of
manipulation. I've dealt with this sort of thing before and survived
without being taken in.” At that moment, I feel Cole's
presence, and it's as though Locke was just babbling on and on. I
can't hear a word he's saying.

“He's here.”
I look Locke in the eye.

“Yup, here to put
in his time. Please, Claire. Please be careful.” He gets up to
answer the doorbell.

“I will.” I
take another bite.

Cole walks in behind
Locke. “Hey.”

“Hey.” I
wipe my mouth and take a big drink of milk.

“So what's going
on tonight?” he asks, looking at Locke.

“I was going to
go to a party with Lili, but I think I'll just hang around here and
get some stuff done. She's already late.” Locke gives me a
look. “You were going to go to the party with Lili?” Oh,
the nerve of this guy, warning
me
.

“Yeah,” he
says without making eye contact.

“You know...”
I start.

“I know, and
that's why I'm going to cancel.” He looks from me to Cole. “So
it will be three of us tonight.”

I smile at Cole.
“Sounds like fun.”

Cole's voice goes off
in my head.
Do we really need a babysitter?

I shake my head no.
Then, after a moment, realize that Locke is the only other one I've
ever been able to communicate with like this. I look at him and tilt
my head.

A sly smile swells his
cheeks.
It's our connection, darlin'.

“Claire?”
Locke's voice is full of warning.

“Actually, it
will just be the two of us. Let me get my sweater. Go for a walk?”
I throw a sarcastic smile at Locke.

“I think it would
be nice for us to hang out here while everyone's at the party.”
Locke follows me up the first set of stairs.

“I thought you
were going to go and take care of Lili?” I shrug.

“Claire, please.”

“I'm a grown ass
woman, stop treating me like I don't know what I'm doing.” I
look at him as though what I’m saying is full of logic. “We're
just going for a walk.” I continue into my room. “We'll
be back in less than an hour.”

“Don't say I
didn't warn you.” He starts back down the stairs.

I grab my sweater, put
my boots on, and then meet Cole back down in the kitchen. “You
ready?”

“I am, but if you
want to just hang out here the coast is clear.” An indulgent
smirk rests upon his lips.

“Really?” I
can't sense Locke in the house anymore.

“Locke went to
the party, but not without a stern talking to.” He laughs.

“Yeah, I got 'the
talk' also.” I shake my head and laugh. “I'm not sure
what everyone thinks is going to happen, but it's not like that.”

“It's not?”
Hurt rides out on his tone.

“No.” I
stand directly in front of him. “We're just friends.”

His gaze intensifies,
making my stomach cinch. “Whatever makes you happy, Claire. I
just enjoy spending time with you: talking, running, all of it.”

“Me too.”
My expression is full of contentment.

“Then let's keep
doing that.” He bends backward a little to meet my eyes.

“Deal.” I
try to perk up.

“And if it leads
somewhere, then so be it.” He walks past me while speaking.

“It can't.”
I walk up behind him and want nothing more than to bury my face in
his strong back and bathe in his scent. I'm close enough that I can
feel the warmth radiating from him. I turn him around to face me and
put my finger to my chest. “Hunter.” Then, I point at
his. “Wolf. It's forbidden.”

“Yes, so is
living with wolves.” He gives me a look, then waves his hands,
indicating the whole house.

With a sly wink, I say,
“I guess I'm just a rebel.”

“Yes, you are.”
He helps me put my sweater on. “Porch?”

“Yeah, let's.”
I start for the door.

“I'll make you a
drink.” He turns back to the refrigerator.

“Okay, sounds
good.” I go out to the porch and take my seat. The waning moon
hangs bright and beautiful in the sky. It's hard to look at it
sometimes, knowing that in all that beauty is death and destruction
for those I love most.

“Okay, now, none
of that,” Cole says, handing me a blue fizzy drink.

“None of what?”

“No lamenting the
moon.” He tilts his chin downward with mock warning.

“Was it that
obvious?” I can't help the stupid grin on my face at the
thought of him noticing.

“Obvious? Not
really, but someone who’s paying attention sees it.” He
sits and lights a cigarette.

“You pay
attention?” My tone is playful.

“Yes, I do. I
like to watch people, figure them out. What motivates them.” He
takes a moment to think. “It serves me well.”

“So are you just
trying to get me in bed?” I hit him square in the pants with
that. I might as well be bold.

His smile has a hurt
edge to it, and he tilts his head thoughtfully, closing his eyes.
“No, Claire, I'm not just trying to get you into bed.”

I think it strange that
he repeats my entire statement. There must be some sort of
manipulative psychology in it. “Good, because I'm not going to
sleep with you.”

“I never expected
you would.” His smile fades. “It doesn't make me want to
spend any less time with you.” He takes a puff from his
cigarette and swirls the ice around in his nearly empty glass.

“Glad to hear
it.”

Hours go by and we talk
about everything from politics to handmade weapons to our favorite
serial killers.

“I didn't figure
you for a closet sociopath,” he says, sipping his drink.

“Um, really?”
I tilt my chin downward, looking at him with hooded eyes.

“Really, it
surprises me.”

“So, my entire
purpose in life is to kill what I was created to love most, and you
didn't figure me for a sociopath?” I shake my head. “I'm
disappointed, Cole.”

He inhales a breath and
looks around, avoiding my gaze. “I hadn't thought of that.”

“Who's wearing
the sheep’s clothing now?” A cunning smirk darkens my
eyes.

“Touché.”
He raises his glass to me.

We sit in silence for a
solid minute; this is the first time when we've had nothing to say to
each other. Although, it's more what we don’t want to say.

“Claire?”
It comes out on a questioning sigh.

“Yes?”

“Would you kill
me?”

“If I had to.”
My own words impale my spirit.

“Good,” he
says as he stands and walks to the railing.

“I'm sure it's
what you would want.” Please give me permission and
forgiveness. His silence crumbles me a little inside. “Cole?”

“Yes, it's what I
would want.” He doesn't turn to look at me.

“Because you
wouldn't want to be hurting other wolf-borne or people right?”
Please say the right thing, I chant in my head.

He hesitates. “Of
course I wouldn't want to hurt anyone, just like you don't. But what
if it's in our nature?”

“I was created to
quell that nature.” I cock my head as almost a challenge.

“You're right,”
he says, turning around to face me. He leans back against the
railing, crossing his cowboy boots one over the other. “Have
you ever thought about how you're going to die?”

“I try not to,
but I suspect I'll likely be killed by a wolf.”

“Yeah.” He
huffs a sullen laugh.

“How about you?
Have you thought about it?”

“I don't know
how, just that I'm going to die bloody.” He looks down at his
feet.

“It doesn't have
to be that way, you know.” It's so freeing, being able to
explore some of my darkest thoughts. He feels and thinks the same
way; it's as though it's as much a part of him as it is a part of me,
the darkness.

“I really think
it does.” He continues staring in the yard. “Death, is
the embodiment of the end of all things, and is the entity that all
living things are fated to meet one day, when he comes to ferry them
from the mortal world into the next realm.”

Haltingly, I whisper,
“
Dante's Inferno.
”

“Very good,”
he commends.

“It's my favorite
book.” I can't believe he's read the
Divine Comedy
.

“Really?”
He's surprised. “Also one of my favorites.”

“Huh.” My
admiration of him just grew.

He pushes himself away
from the railing and holds his hand out to me. “Come on, let's
walk.”

I take his hand to get
up. I'm quite tipsy and it takes a moment before I gain my
equilibrium. “I don’t know that I'm up for a run.”

“No, just a
walk,” he says, not letting go of my hand. “I think I'd
like to keep my pants on tonight.”

“Good to know.”
I look up at him and his blue eyes shine in the moonlight. “You
won't get any argument from me. I'm quite frankly sick of seeing all
the boys’ nibbly bits. It's disgusting.”

He laughs. “I can
imagine if you're not comfortable with nudity, you have a hard time
being around a bunch of wolves.”

“You have no
idea. I think I've seen more dick than a porn star.” I shake my
head, trying not to think about it.

“I'd like to feel
bad for you, but I've never had a problem with it. It's in my nature
to be nude.”

“Yeah, I'm not a
fan of
nekkidness
. I'd shower with clothes on if I could get
away with it.” Cole starts to swing our hands back and forth.

“That seems like
a shame.” He pulls his lips to the side and looks down at me.

“Hey, now, none
of that.” I try to slip my hand out of his.

He tightens his grip.
“Okay, I get it.”

As we come to the trail
head at the edge of the yard, I murmur, “In the middle of the
journey of our life I came to myself within a dark wood...”

He looks down at me,
and with a dour lilt, completes the quote from
Dante's Inferno
,
“...where the straight way was lost.”

We walk in silence
until we reach the clearing, brightly lit by the moon. The wild
flowers sway freely in the gentle breeze. I'm betrayed by my bleak
expression.

Cole picks a small
bunch and hands them to me. “Aw, thank you.”

“Tell me about
the flowers,” he says thoughtfully.

“These are–”
he cuts me off.

“No, I know
they're penny royal. I want you to tell me why they make you sad.”
He takes my hand in his again.

“Oh.” My
eyes lose focus, gazing at our intertwined hands like mine had never
been held before, and they haven’t, not like this. “My
dad used to pick them when we went on walks. We'd bring them back to
my mom's grave.”

He drops his gaze. “I'm
sorry.”

“Don't be. It's
sort of a happy memory. Knowing that my dad loved my mom so much to
think of her every day, even after she was gone, is pretty cool. He
never stopped loving her, even in death.”

“How old were you
when your mother died?” he asks.

“Very young. I've
seen pictures of her, but I really don't have memories of her. I
think I was like two or three.” Every time she comes up, I
strain to try to remember something about her: her face, what she
smelled like.

“And your dad?
How old were you then?” He puts his arm around me and slides in
closer.

“I was eight when
he was killed.” I try to soak in the moon and let it absorb the
sadness.

He leans in, smelling
my hair, then pressing a sweet kiss on the top of my head. He
releases a heavy breath. “I wish things were different.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”
His sadness blankets me like the dew.

I nuzzle into him. “If
only there were words to make this okay.”

“There are no
words, Claire. The only ones that matter are hunter and wolf. That's
what we are.” He wraps his other arm around me, and I feel his
entire being filling me with warmth and something else. Something
that I've never felt before. I inhale his scent, woodsy and strong,
invoking a powerful emotional response. I want to be here in this
moment forever, smelling him, feeling him.

“Claire?”
he says quietly.

“Hm,” is
the only way I can respond, basking in his comfort.

“Watch every
sunrise with me, from now until the day you have to...” He
trails off.

Grief envelops me with
the truth in the words he can't speak. I want to tell him it's not
so, that I won't have to kill him. But there's something deep within
me that knows, one day I will have to take his life. “I will.”
It rides out on a sad breath.